A Left citadel under siege

But by whom? By Right or ultra-Left? DNA’s Sumanta Ray Chaudhuri visits trouble-torn Nandigram and finds the Trinamool and Maoists have made it their fortress

Friends and colleagues advised caution as I decided to undertake a journey to the troubled Nandigram for a spot story on Thursday. But I was not worried, having returned safe and sound from the Maoist strongholds of Bankura, Puruliya and West Midnapore before.

The 115-km journey from Kolkata to Nandigram was pleasant. However, as soon as I stepped into Nandigram Police Station, I was woken up to harsh reality. The duty officer almost screamed at me, “Are you mad to carry such a handbag while touring Nandigram?”

Is it a crime to carry a handbag here? Nevertheless I decided to deposit the bag with a local friend.

The police warning had had its effect on my driver Giri by then, as he began nagging me to keep a low profile and not to endanger our lives by indulging in an adventure. I calmed him down and proceeded as the duty officer uttered a final word of caution to keep my press identity papers always ready.

There was an eerie silence as we drove slowly from Nandigram Market to the different Nandigram villages. The doubtful glances of locals filled further tension in the air. “Here comes another city reporter to exploit our pain,” said a passer-by. Throughout the journey we did not come across a police patrol, nor did we see a single CPI-M flag, though the party has enjoyed a virtual monopoly in Nandigram for almost three decades now.

The first time we were stopped was at Phulia crossing, one of Nandigram’s important entry points, by two teenage boys. As Giri halted the car, 30 men gathered around us and we were ordered to alight. Even before we could get a grip of the situation, four of them were frisking us.

After making sure we were not carrying any firearms, they ordered Giri to open the boot of the car and checked it thoroughly. Safety ensured, a 20-year-old English-speaking bearded young man in a spotless white kurta came forward with a question, “Which paper are you from.”

I showed him my I-card and told him I work for a Mumbai-based daily.

The next question was, “Which group does your newspaper belong to.”

My credentials established, we were allowed to move on to Garchakraberia village, but with a caution, “I am not asking you to write everything supporting the Bhumi Ucched Pratirodh Committee. But you write the truth about our struggle against police and CPI-M atrocities.”

As we were leaving we found him noting down our vehicle number. We had hardly driven another 15 minutes when we were stopped again at Samsabad. This time the “frisk team” was led by another young man in his twenties.

Clad in a blue jeans and polo-neck shirt, he oversaw the entire process of frisking sitting on a Yamaha motorcycle. And when we were allowed to proceed, he too gave an unsolicited advice in chaste English, “Do not keep your identify card in your wallet. Keep it in your pocket. It will be easier for you since there will more such checking.” 

We had to slow down a great deal as we entered Garchakraberia as the roads there have been dug up to prevent police entry. At times, Giri had to drive the car through the adjacent fields to avoid the deep trenches.

At the exit point of Garchakraberia we were stopped a third time. But this time there was no frisking since the news of our arrival had already reached that point. We were given the go-ahead after another young man speaking Hindi with a distinctly Maithili accent jotted down our car number.

It was around 5.30 pm when we entered the most-troubled Sonachura village. Giri was already cribbing. “Sir, it is almost evening.

Cross-firing will start any moment. Let’s go back,” he said.

But I was determined to go to Bhangabera, the border of Nandigram where there is frequent tension and violence. My resolve soon gave way to helplessness as a deep and wide trench halted our journey a kilometre from the Bhangabera pool.

We had no choice but to return and return we did, but not before having a few more tense moments as another group of Bhumi Ucched Pratirodh Committee members led by a 40-year-old confronted us.